Crookedstar's Promise Page 24

  He bounded up the bank, following Brambleberry’s trail around the camp and into the marshes. The medicine cat must have moved fast because her scent was already growing stale. Crookedjaw headed down to the shore and followed the river upstream. The water looked black and deep beneath the stars. Behind him the reeds rattled and the night heron swooped low across the water before soaring away.

  Crookedjaw veered away from the river and followed the shore past the first meadow, skirting the Twoleg field right up to the bridge. He paused there, ducking down in its spiky shadow, catching his breath. I’m not scared, he told himself. He flexed his claws and peered through the willow trees. The pelt-dens glowed with yellow light, throwing wildly misshapen shadows across the field as the Twolegs moved around inside.

  Pebbles shifted on the shore downstream. Crookedjaw froze. Something was stalking him. He crouched deeper into the shadow, tasting the air, scenting nothing but Twoleg smells. Keeping low, he crept out from beneath the bridge and stalked forward. He ducked beneath the longest grass and crept along the shore.

  A shadow skirted the water. Crookedjaw flexed his claws and crouched down, ready to attack.

  “Crookedjaw?”

  Graypool?

  He straightened up. “What are you doing here?”

  She dashed forward to greet him. “It’s spooky out here at night!” Her eyes were glittering.

  “I thought I told you to stay behind and look after Fallowtail.”

  “Echomist’s with her,” Graypool mewed.

  Crookedjaw’s paws pricked with irritation. “It’s bad enough that I lost Willowbreeze!” he growled. “I don’t want to lose you, too!”

  “You won’t!” Graypool’s claws scraped the pebbles. “I’m here to help get her back!”

  “Go home!”

  “No!”

  Crookedjaw hissed with frustration. “Fine. Follow me.”

  Graypool jumped up the bank into the willow trees.

  “What did I just say?” Crookedjaw yanked her back down by her tail. “Follow me! And stay close.”

  He padded quietly back to the bridge, leaped up onto the shadowy timbers, and tasted the air. The pelt-dens were noisy with Twolegs mumbling and yowling.

  Graypool snorted. “Don’t they ever go to sleep?”

  Crookedjaw beckoned her on with a flick of his muzzle. “At least they’re inside,” he whispered. “Let’s see if we can figure out which one Willowbreeze is in.”

  Heart pounding, Crookedjaw padded across the field, the soft grass stroking his belly fur. Graypool followed, her paw steps no more than a faint whisper on the grass. They halted beside the nearest pelt-den and began sniffing the edge. Ducking down, Crookedjaw caught a glimpse inside. It was chaotic, with brightly colored piles heaped everywhere and Twolegs squatting in the small space between. Countless scents bathed his nose, strong and startling.

  “Here!” Graypool hissed from the next pelt-den.

  “I thought I told you to stay close!” He darted over to her and sniffed the edge of the den. Hope flared in his belly. Willowbreeze! Her scent was thickly laced with fear, but it was fresh.

  Suddenly a Twoleg moved in the den, its shadow engulfing them as it swept over the grass. Crookedjaw froze, feeling Graypool trembling against him. Then the shadow swooped away as the Twoleg settled down.

  “We’ve got to go in there,” Graypool whispered shakily.

  “Yes.” Crookedjaw poked his head under the stretched pelt and peered inside. It was more chaotic than the last den, the colorful piles bigger and brighter. Good. They’d be able to hide easily. He squeezed under the pelt and crouched behind a heap of Twoleg clutter. Graypool slid in after him. Her breath was fast, her hackles high.

  “I won’t let them catch you,” Crookedjaw promised. He nosed his way around the edge of the den, squeezing through the narrow channel between the clutter and the den wall. The Twolegs were chattering and hooting, crouched around something in the middle of the den. Crookedjaw stretched up and peered over the nearest pile, his ears flat, eyes wide.

  The Twolegs were dangling a thread into a square brown nest. Familiar pale tabby paws flapped frantically at the thread, trying to catch it as the Twolegs twitched it and pulled it out of reach.

  “I can see her!” Crookedjaw dropped down and whispered in Graypool’s ear. “They’ve got her in some sort of trap and they’re teasing her.”

  Graypool flexed her claws. “Is she okay?”

  “I think she’s playing along,” Crookedjaw guessed.

  Graypool opened her mouth. “I don’t smell blood.”

  “They haven’t harmed her, then.” Crookedjaw felt a rush of relief. “Now we have to wait.”

  “Here?”

  Crookedjaw nodded. Now that he had Willowbreeze in sight, he didn’t want to lose her again. He flattened his belly against the floor. Graypool settled beside him.

  “It’ll be okay,” he promised her.

  She swallowed and nodded.

  Crookedjaw began to grow stiff as the Twolegs played with Willowbreeze. He glanced over the pile again and again, itching with frustration, until suddenly the Twolegs started moving clumsily around the den, rummaging in the muddled pelts that were scattered on the floor.

  Crookedjaw tensed. “Look out!” Twoleg paws plunged into the heap they were sheltering behind. He ducked under the edge, out into the field, dragging Graypool after him. “That was close!”

  They crouched in the grass. The earthy scent of it soothed Crookedjaw’s jangled nerves. The light disappeared from the pelt-den. Murmuring and rustling, the Twolegs gradually settled down.

  “Can we go back in?” Graypool’s round eyes reflected the moon.

  “Let’s wait a bit longer,” Crookedjaw whispered. “Until they’re asleep.”

  On the other side of the willow trees, the river glided past, rolling pebbles along the shore, and an owl screeched far away. One by one, the pelt-dens grew dark and silent.

  “Now.” Crookedjaw slid under the stretched pelt once more. Ears pricked, he listened for movement. The Twolegs were still, lying under pelts at the far side of the den. He sensed rather than saw Graypool beside him as he crept over a heap of pelts and padded across the den. He could just make out the brown trap near the Twolegs’ hind paws. Fur swished inside it. Claws scrabbled quietly against its walls.

  “She’s trying to get out.” Crookedjaw darted toward it, hissing. “We’re here, Willowbreeze. We’ve come to get you.”

  A low purr of relief sounded inside the box. “I can’t get the flaps open at the top.”

  Crookedjaw reached up and saw the top of the trap was folded, flap over flap. He tugged at one, but it wouldn’t shift.

  “Let me help.” Graypool stretched up beside him and hooked her claws under a flap. Together they tugged, but the strange hard substance wouldn’t give.

  “Push!” Crookedjaw hissed to Willowbreeze.

  “I am!” she snapped back.

  “Together!” Crookedjaw gave a fierce heave.

  The trap rocked wildly and tumbled over on to its side. Graypool squawked as it fell on top of her. The Twolegs sat up, yelping, as Graypool struggled to escape. Crookedjaw whipped his head around. The Twolegs were flailing in the dark. They hadn’t spotted the extra cats yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Panic surging inside him, Crookedjaw turned back to the trap. A gap had opened between the flaps. Willowbreeze’s paws were stretching through.

  “Pull!” he yowled to Graypool. He didn’t care if the Twolegs heard. They were thrashing around in their pelts, slapping the darkness with lumbering paws. As one brushed Crookedjaw’s tail, he yanked desperately at the trap. It gave way and Willowbreeze shot out like a rabbit from a foxhole.

  A light flashed over them. Crookedjaw caught the full glare and staggered, blinded. The Twolegs screeched.

  “This way!” Graypool pushed him forward.

  Crookedjaw hurtled headlong into a heap of pelts, his paws tangling with StarClan knew what. Terror clawed at him as he
struggled free. Blurred shapes moved around him as he adjusted to the light. Willowbreeze was disappearing over the wall of pelts with Graypool on her tail. Crookedjaw shot after them, Twolegs shrieking behind him. He dived under the stretched pelt and out into the field.

  Willowbreeze was standing in the grass staring at him. “That was close!”

  Graypool grabbed her scruff and dragged her forward. “Run, you fish-brain!”

  They pelted away through the dewy grass. Crookedjaw glanced over his shoulder. Twolegs were bursting out of the dens all over the meadow, flashing lights and howling. Crookedjaw stretched his claws and dug them deeper with every stride, racing after his Clanmates with the blood roaring in his ears.

  Chapter 25

  “Psst!”

  A hiss stopped Crookedjaw in his tracks.

  The reed bed was in view, pale under the moon, the Twoleg pelt-dens far behind. Willowbreeze scrambled to a halt and turned. “What’s wrong?”

  Crookedjaw whipped his head around, tasting the air.

  “Pssst!”

  A cat was signaling from the riverbank. Straining to see in the light of the half-moon, Crookedjaw spotted an orange-and-white pelt.

  “Go on without me!” he called to Willowbreeze. “I want to check something out.”

  Graypool had doubled back and was pacing around her sister. “What’s the holdup?”

  “Crookedjaw’s seen something.” Willowbreeze gazed at him curiously.

  “Nothing important,” he assured them. “Get back to camp. Fallowtail will be waiting.”

  Graypool frowned. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  Crookedjaw flicked his tail impatiently. “Just get Willowbreeze safely back. She’s gone through a lot in one day.”

  Graypool nodded and steered her sister down the path.

  “What do you want, Mapleshade?” Crookedjaw padded angrily toward the clump of sedge she was hiding behind. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

  The she-cat flew at him, spitting. Shocked, Crookedjaw rolled on to his back and heaved her off with a sharp kick of his hind legs. Scrambling to his paws he faced her, bristling.

  Her eyes blazed. “You mouse-brain,” she snarled.

  “What?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “You betray us to the Twolegs and then you’re angry?”

  “I was testing you, idiot!” A sneer curled her lip. “I knew you were weak. I knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! When your mate was stolen, you should have left her!”

  “She’s not my mate!”

  “She will be.” Mapleshade stalked around him. “I can see it in the way you look at her.”

  Crookedjaw growled. “So what?”

  “So what?” Mapleshade echoed with a sneer. “If she can’t keep herself safe then she’s of no use to you! Your loyalty should be to your Clan, not her! Your Clanmates are lying injured in camp yet you sneak off and risk your life to save a warrior who can’t even outrun a Twoleg! She should be ashamed that she caused so much trouble. You should be ashamed that you deserted your Clan on a fish-brained mission! Did Hailstar say you could go?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No! He told you to wait. Your disloyalty makes me sick. Cats who betray their Clan should be banished. They should live as rogues and loners because that’s all they are!” Hissing, she reared and slashed at Crookedjaw’s muzzle with both paws.

  He knocked her away, suddenly aware that he was bigger than her and stronger. “Who are you?” He swiped at her, his paw catching her cheek and sending her tumbling to the ground. He was on her in an instant, digging his claws into her shoulders and pinning her down. “No StarClan warrior would turn on its Clanmate. You mentored me and now you attack me?”

  Mapleshade went limp in his grip. Crookedjaw recoiled, suddenly afraid he had hurt her. The she-cat struggled to her paws, shrinking into a huddled crouch. She looked elderly and frail. Guilt seared Crookedjaw. Her blood was wet on his claws. Beating an old cat like that was no measure of strength.

  Groaning with the effort, Mapleshade lifted her muzzle. “I saw greatness in you the moment you were born,” she croaked. “You don’t remember the storm, but I saw it. I saw how the skies heaved and roared at your birth.” She dropped on to her belly, panting. “You have a wonderful destiny, Crookedjaw. You’re not just going to be the greatest leader of your Clan, you’re going to be the greatest leader of any Clan.” She stopped to catch her breath. “But you have to keep your promise to me.”

  He crouched beside her, pity sweeping over him. “Of course I will.”

  “You’ll have to make sacrifices,” she warned. “Your life is not your own; it belongs to your Clan. Don’t be distracted from all the wonderful things you can achieve.”

  The greatest leader of any Clan? Excitement flashed though Crookedjaw as Mapleshade went on. “And you will achieve so much! As long as you have me to guide you.” She seemed to be gaining strength with each word. “I have chosen to help you. No one else. Just you. Never forget that the Clan is greater than its cats. Even if you sacrifice every cat who ever loved you, it will be no more than shedding raindrops from your fur because, even if they go, the Clan will still be there and relying on you. Do you agree?”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his. It sparked with hope.

  Sacrifice every cat who loved me? Crookedjaw frowned. Why would I have to? “But why—” He started to argue, but shadow was swallowing Mapleshade as a cloud swept across the moon. Fat raindrops splashed on Crookedjaw’s pelt. Wind tugged the branches above his head.

  “Don’t go yet!” he begged. “Tell me more!” With a jab of disappointment, he found himself staring at bare earth. She had gone. He straightened up and stared across the marsh. The reeds beside the camp were rattling as the rain hardened.

  I’m going to be the greatest leader any Clan has ever known!

  The words sang in Crookedjaw’s heart. He broke into a run, heading for home. Strength pulsed in his paws. He’d saved Willowbreeze from Twolegs. He’d been chosen by StarClan.

  I can do anything!

  Chapter 26

  Leaf-fall had reddened the willow and darkened the sedge. Crookedjaw shivered as a cold wind swept through the camp. “Come on!” he called to the kits. “Let’s warm up with a game.” His charges—who were close to becoming ’paws now that they were five moons old—padded disdainfully around him.

  Skykit sniffed. “We want to learn battle moves.”

  “The camp may be invaded by Twolegs any moment!” Reedkit flicked his long, reed-straight tail.

  Crookedjaw purred. “I don’t think a patrol of kits doing forepaw slashes is going to drive them off.”

  Blackkit growled. “Just you wait!”

  “We’ll shred them!” Frogkit barged past his denmate and squared up to Crookedjaw. “Show me that move you talked about, the forepaw slash.”

  Crookedjaw started to feel trapped. He glanced toward the nursery where Shimmerpelt and Lakeshine were busy clearing out their greenleaf nests. Ottersplash had just delivered a bundle of fresh reeds from the river to weave into sturdier leaf-bare nests that would keep out the cold wind.

  “Hey, Ottersplash, I could fetch reeds if you like!” Crookedjaw called. And you can watch your kits!

  “Thanks, Crookedjaw.” Ottersplash dropped her bundle and turned back for more. “But they’d much rather hang out with a warrior than with their mothers.”

  Crookedjaw scanned the entrance to the camp, hoping Cedarpelt, Piketooth, or Timberfur would return and take over kit duty. Willowbreeze was taking them on a hunting patrol—her first as patrol leader. They were fishing below Sunningrocks where the fish lurked in the cool shadows. He wondered how she was doing.

  “Go on!” Sunkit interrupted his thoughts. “Show us a forepaw slash.”

  “Lakeshine says you’re too young to learn battle moves,” Crookedjaw told her.

  Sunkit glowered at her mother, who was pulling wisps of stale moss out of the nursery. “Ottersplash doesn’t think we’re too young.”
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  Ottersplash called from the reed bed. “They’re never too young to start training!”

  Lakeshine reproached her with a sharp look. “I don’t want them to get hurt.”

  “You can’t wrap them up in feathers,” Ottersplash argued.

  Shimmerpelt sat back from her work and shook her head. “There’s no hurry. They’ll be ’paws soon,” she reminded both queens. “It won’t be long till they can learn all the battle moves they want.”

  Loudkit flexed his claws. “What if the Twolegs do invade the camp?”

  Crookedjaw sat down. “They won’t.” There had been plenty of pelt-dens in the field this green-leaf, but as the colder weather set in, fewer Twolegs came. “Hey, Oakheart!” He called across the clearing to his brother, who was organizing a fresh border patrol. “The Twolegs won’t invade the camp, will they?”

  Oakheart shook his head. “We’ve kept a close eye on them for moons,” he reassured the kits. “They rarely stray as far as the marsh meadow.” Oakheart had taken on responsibility for patrolling the Twoleg field in the moons since Willowbreeze had been stolen. He made a daily check on the pelt-dens, monitoring their arrival and disappearance, he’d invented patrol strategies for distracting Twolegs should they ever wander near the camp, and he could get a patrol of warriors right around the field without being spotted.

  Leopardkit brushed against Crookedjaw. Younger than her denmates, her pelt was still soft as duck down. “Please teach us a battle move?” She gazed up at Crookedjaw with round, dark eyes.

  His whiskers twitched. The whole Clan had spoiled the motherless kit, especially her father Mudfur, who doted on her, and she could wrap almost any Clanmate around her tail.

  Leopardkit blinked sweetly and purred, “Please?”

  “Don’t you dare teach her anything!” Shimmerpelt bustled over and shooed Leopardkit away. “Mudfur would be horrified if he came back and found her fighting!” Though the night-black queen was fiercely fond of her adopted kit, she wasn’t as easily swayed as the rest of the Clan by Leopardkit’s wiles.